


and something you can

by plague0witch



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gaster dies lol, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Juneborg is the only one I could remember at the time, M/M, Papyrus is confused, Pomander, Sanster, Something You Can't Measure, The Void, Vomiting, aftermath fic, failed experiment, personal headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9460307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plague0witch/pseuds/plague0witch
Summary: Something was bound to go wrong





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pomander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomander/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Something You Can't Measure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661667) by [Pomander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomander/pseuds/Pomander). 



> Okay, so I was supposed to upload this around Christmas time, but stuff got ahead of me.  
> I highly recommend you go read Something You Can't Measure before you even glance at this, a long but amazing Saster fic by Pomander!  
> This won't make much sense without

  The experiments on the void continue. Among other things, of course. You tend to see Gaster more and more and family less and less, but you do stop by at least once a month, stil. It’s good for you, especially to be around your brother, you think, never less optimistic than always. Your mother needs you around sometimes, too, of course.

  You sail completely off course one day, though. Gaster told you one weekend he might make a trip into the void on his own, a short little voyage announced when you were tired and didn’t exactly register his words, anyway. You all let him go alone for some reason, that weekend, and when you awoke sunday morning a sort of dread sunk in your chest, trembled there, even as you brushed it off. You needed coffee, that was all.

  ...You’re such an  _ idiot _ .

  Gaster didn’t answer your morning text of  _ hey, love _ nor your  _ text me when you’re back to the present lol _ and your  _ goodnight, g _ went unanswered as well. You’re just a worrier, though, aren't you?

  And yet you go to work monday morning, meeting at the Core with all intents of greeting the much missed Gaster with a kiss and going into work only for him not to be there when you arrive. Sure, it wouldn’t be that bad if it was any other person, but Gaster was  _ always _ the first there, and if not it was both of you that were late. And you think he couldn’t have possibly missed his goal time by this much, because by ‘weekend’ you know he meant ‘saturday’ and if he was a whole day off or more then he would, surely, return to the void to try again.

  So came the question if he’s alright at all. But he  _ must _ be, he must be.

  It’s three days before you start to panic.

  See, this sort of panic is a building panic. It starts just within your sternum, a light pressure on the inside of it that makes you clammy, which turns to a wholehearted press and it’s a little hard to breathe, and then it consumes the rest of your ribcage, then burns down your spine and fills your skull and converts you into a twitchy, trembling mess because it’s been two weeks since you’ve seen him in no time.

  It takes two weeks for it to dawn on the team that something went  _ extremely _ wrong. They can’t just call up the Royal Guard, though. You can’t just bust into captain Undyne’s house in hysteria. They’ll know even less than you do. Nothing in the Underground at the present time can be responsible for Gaster’s disappearance.

  Juneborg alerts the king after another two days. Your hands have been numb for a little while. You sort of imagine that Gaster is right there next to you to warm them, stroke your knuckles, reassure you and press his lips to your temple and tell you  _ I’m right here, love _ .

  No, he’s not, because Asgore has alerted the guard to be on a watch for Gaster. Look for Gaster. Find the precious royal scientist.

_ I’m right here, _ he says in your mind, a dreamy little thing, and  _ come here, you’re shaking _ and  _ Sans, please stop crying, here, you can touch me, I’m real _ and you collapse into the puddles while you’re walking in waterfall and you heave.

  You can’t you  _ can’t _ because it’s been almost  _ three fucking weeks _ and there hasn’t been a  _ trace _ of your boyfriend and— and—

  Bile is a weird thing. It shouldn’t exist for you, being a skeleton, but the excess magic is there and it lurches until you’re sputtering and coughing and the gross magic-infested vomit blends in with the rock. Your bones are clicking together, a little rattling noise and you laugh, a hysterical little thing as tears slide down your face.

  You almost try to choke out that you guess you’re really  _ rattled _ but there’s nobody there and you can’t speak above the sobs that catch in your throat. You heave out more vomit and it burns your throat similarly to the way your sockets feel like somebody is scraping their nails against them.

  …that’s your phalanges, though. You keep trying to scrape away your tears. It kind of hurts.

  Gaster wouldn’t want you to do that.

  And just like that you’re heaving and coughing and sputtering all over again. Your throat really, really burns. You keep sobbing.

  …But it comes to an end like all things and numbness tingles in your bones. Your pants are soaked, kneeling in a two-inch deep puddle, and it won’t be long until the rest of you is drenched. Your throat burns and the vomit is being sluggishly, disgustingly washed away. It makes you want to heave again, upset roiling in your chest, but you just stand and hold your hand to the wall. The world sort of feels like it’s tilting.

  You stay home for a few days.

  ‘A few days’ turns into another week and a week turns into two and they’re only getting longer and longer. Your mother knocks on the door one day and you don’t think you’ve ever been so distressed when she opens her arms for you to fall into.

  You hadn’t slept, either. You sleep in her arms, in the hard comfort of her shirt, and when you wake up Papyrus is there too. It’s dinnertime. They took you back home.

  You can’t stay, though. You can't stay with your mother and younger brother, can’t start to waste yourself. Papyrus says ‘sorry’ once or twice and his voice is so hesitant like you’ll break if he really does speak at his full volume. 

  You quit the labs.

  It was sort of expected but there’s a huge fight between all of you, and it feels like everyone’s against you. They calm down eventually and you leave.

  Instead, you opt for several smaller, closer jobs. You help a guy start his ice cream business and help the vendor out by pushing the little cart around, venture to Snowdin. There’s a little, not-quite-new bar that you want to maybe help at. The owner says he’s not hiring.

  Life is fine as it is dull, but it’s all too soon when you find it’s been a year since you’ve seen Doctor Gaster, the royal scientist who disappeared without a trace. You spend the night cold and drunk. You’ve taken to Snowdin lately.

  … 

  Papyrus eventually moves in with you. It’s probably been three or four years when he does and you’ve blocked out the memories of the labs. You don’t know in the slightest what’s been going on there.

  It’s just the two of you, then, and you both have a number of jobs and he livens you up. He’s loud and optimistic and drags you everywhere and things are getting better. You buy a house, the both of you, a rather large one in Snowdin. It’s nice because the outside is cold and when you step in the house is warm and inviting and it wraps you up in comfort. It’s nice. Life seems a little bit better then.

  …Papyrus comes home and tells you that he wants to be in the Royal Guard.

  It’s good to dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Pshew I refuse to look over this because I know I'll hate it the instant I reread it :V


End file.
